A Necromancer's Sacrifice
by Ame the Pirate Queen
Summary: Dark magic is growing at Hogwarts and there is only one person who can train it into something good. Can Hermione diffuse the threat of a budding necromancer before the Dark Lord takes advantage of this threatening power?
1. Prologue

_Author Note: Another story from yours truly. I know I should finish Breaking the Habit, but this particular plot bunny has been eating away at me for some time now. I just finished reading the Anita Blake series and so don't be surprised if you recognize some stuff from there._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything within either belongs to JK or Laurell K. Hamilton._

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The Necromancer's Sacrifice

Prologue

There was a time in my life when I did not realize the horrors the world held. Even though bad things happened, they never shattered the illusion that the world was a safe place. Life, I thought, could only improve and so I did not believe that something could ruin my carefully constructed future. Of course, I was only twelve at the time so I suppose such a view is understandable.

In one horrible day, everything I had planned crumbled around me. My grandfather passed away during the summer between my first and second years at Hogwarts. He had not been dead for more than a few days when I awoke to him standing beside my bed. I remember my parents bursting into my room and their screams mingling with mine.

It is a surprise our neighbors did not call the police because of all the noise we were making. Upon further inspection, it became very clear that the body beside me was nothing more than that, a body. It was a corpse, nothing more. We did not know how it had crawled up from its grave and come straight to me, but we all knew that the best course of action was to get Dumbledore to our home as soon as possible.

Even to this day, the horror of learning the cause to this mysterious appearance still sends a shiver up my spine. Necromancy, the ability to control the dead, the darkness. Who ever would have believed that me, the innocent, bossy, know-it-all Hermione Granger was the strongest necromancer the Wizarding World had ever seen?

But even that did not go far enough to completely explain why he looked so very, very alive. All the others before me who have raised the dead have never been able to get their corpses to shake that wholly un-alive look. My zombies appear completely human. Of course, that is because I am more than just the average necromancer.

I also am a natural witch. Most people don't know what that is and, to tell the truth, I did not either when I first learnt of them. Natural witches have strong ties to the elements and it is not uncommon for their abilities to show themselves in certain areas of study, for me it was Potions. It is also a relatively common gift but rarely is it strong enough to be considered a force to be reckoned with.

While I am not the strongest natural witch in history, my power is nothing to be sneered at. One would think that I was invincible with all this magic to call my own, but such an idea is so far from the truth. I spent the next six years training to control my wayward powers. Even now, if my concentration wavers greatly, they still escape me.

Once I graduated from Hogwarts it became very clear to me that the career I had once hoped for, to be an Auror, would not come to fruition. Most of the magical community saw me as a creature to fear. It was automatically assumed that because a great deal of my magic was rooted in darkness that I only did dark things.

It makes me wish that people were not so ridiculously closed minded. It seemed fitting then that I become an Unspeakable, a person who deals with the most nefarious and darkest aspects of the Wizarding World. My gifts definitely came in handy here. By the time I was twenty, I had seen things that would make most loose their minds.

Not to mention, I had killed enough times to create an empty space within me that shielded me from the pain of stealing life. I still am not fully comfortable with killing and I am glad, for it is a sign that I still cling to my sanity in an age where many go mad. By that time, the boys and I had drifted apart.

We rarely spoke, let alone saw each other. It was difficult being alone but I felt that I could not risk anybody in the dangers of my lifestyle. I would never have forgiven myself if a loved one died because of me. Crookshanks was the only one that I lost. His death rocked me to the core and the vengeance I had upon the rogue werewolf that tore up my flat and several of my neighbors did little to fill the gap inside of me.

The clichéd phrase that one never realizes how precious something is until it is gone is so very true and I owe Dumbledore a great debt in helping me to close that bleeding wound on my soul. That favor I promised him is the reason I am traveling to Hogwarts seven years after graduation. The War is in its last throes and the Final Battle is fast approaching. Even the children, the future of our world, will have to fight. I am the one who will prepare them for the battle.

The lives of so many will rest solely on my shoulders. It is up to me to teach them the skills they must know to survive. But, that is merely a cover story. For the past year there has been an itch in the back of my mind, a sense gone haywire that I could never fully soothe. I am being called to Hogwarts by power that mirrors my own.

Could it be that another necromancer awaits me within the ancient stone castle?

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_Well, it's a prologue so of course it is short. But, the next chapter should be up soon. Please review!_

_Blessed Be_

_Ame_


	2. Chapter One

_Author Notes: Happy Beltane everyone! Here's a new chapter to make it an extra special May Day!_

_Disclaimer: Everything herein belongs to JK or Laurell K. Hamilton._

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The Necromancer's Sacrifice

Chapter One

A cool breeze brushed against my cheeks as I stepped out of one of the horse drawn carriages. I stood for a moment and merely looked up at the sprawling face of my alma mater, a sudden thickness forming in my throat. Something warm brushed up against my cloth covered leg and I looked down. A faint smile spread across my lips as I rested a hand upon the speckled head of my familiar. When Crookshanks was killed several years ago, Dumbledore gifted me with a new, rare feline to help heal the bleeding wound in my heart.

While no creature would ever be able to compare to the half crazed cat, the elegant snow leopard at my side came close. My fingernails absently scratched against her neck and when her rumbling purring met my ears, I dropped down to my knees. The damp gravel hardly bothered me as I wrapped my arms about her. It would be a strange sight if someone stumbled upon us, a woman embracing a large cat as if her very world depended on it. I rocked back on my heels so I could look into her deep violet eyes, a sigh slipping from between my lips.

"Ange, I don't want to go." I expected no response and settled for her butting her muzzle against my cheek as an answer.

I hugged her tightly once more before rising to my feet, fingers still tangled in the spotted fur at her neck. I drew comfort from her furry warmth and walked up the stone steps to the large front doors. I had yet to knock when they opened ominously. Ange bounded in ahead of me and the echo of someone laughing hurried me inside. A rare smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I watched my oversized ball of fluff playfully attack the Headmaster.

Some people would be worried about having a large cat around children, but not Dumbledore. He seemed to trust that the leopard had no desire to consume the next generation. His twinkling blue eyes met mine and I did not resist the urge to swallow nervously. It had been seven years since I last walked these hallways and I would have preferred to never come back.

While I hold many pleasant memories of my time at Hogwarts, they are not enough to beat away the darkness that sent me running the moment I graduated. A shudder ran through me and seconds later Ange was back at my side, sensing my discomfort. Dumbledore walked towards us and held his hands out in the universal sign of peace.

"Welcome back, Hermione."

I merely shrugged my shoulders and all traces of my earlier smile disappeared. The itching sensation that plagued me for several years had returned at full strength and I had the overwhelming need to scratch the inside of my head.

"I would say it is good to be back, but then that would be a lie."

A sad expression crossed his suddenly ancient face. "I understand how difficult it is for you to return and I thank you. His power grows with each passing day and I have grown terribly worried. It is only a matter of time before he loses control and harms another student." Ah, there was the Dumbledore I knew, always cutting right to the chase.

"Then it _is_ good then I am here, regardless of my own personal feelings. Where is he? More importantly, what is his name? You were in such a hurry to convince me to come you never told me anything about him."

Dumbledore looked about the Entrance Hall and clasped his hands before him. "Perhaps this conversation would be better held in my office. We are in an unsure time where many would like to use such information against us."

I nodded in acquiescence and followed after him, unable to comment in my head about his cryptic phrase. But then again, being creepily mysterious seemed to be a favourite pastime for the Headmaster. I crossed my arms beneath my chest as a cold draft wrapped about me and suddenly was glad that soon I would be in the warmth of Dumbledore's office. Perhaps the heat of a fire would begin to thaw the ice in my flesh, and then maybe my soul.

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I set my cup of tea down onto the desk separated Dumbledore and I, trying to ignore the warning rumble in Ange's chest. He was being ridiculously closed mouthed about much of the history of the boy I would be training. He did not seem to comprehend that I needed to know essentially everything about him so that I could counter things that might trigger a loss of control. I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose and turned increasingly irate eyes back to his lined face.

"Please, Headmaster, it really is extremely important that you tell me about him. I need more that simply his name and the most basic outline of his life."

"I feel that it is his right to tell you about himself."

"It would be if he didn't possess a power that could easily destroy this school if it got out of hand. I highly doubt that he would even consider telling a perfect stranger about himself, especially his relations with Voldemort!"

The elderly man opened his mouth to respond, but the doors to his study flying open interrupted him. I did not bother to turn but my hand did slip within my robes to tightly grasp the handle of my wand. Ange was suddenly standing and hissing coldly at whoever was standing in the doorway. Some people train their familiars to be entirely obedient, unable to do anything for themselves. I've always hated that. The leopard was her own creature and not mine to possess. She would attack with no provocation from me and such insight on her part had saved us both several times.

"Albus, why in Merlin's name is there a wild beast in your office?" A smooth, cultured voice slipped into my ears and even though it had been years, I recognized the speaker.

I was on my feet an instant later and glaring hatefully at the blond some feet away. "Do not refer to Solange like that. Merely because you creature has deigned you worthy enough to be a companion does not mean we are all like you."

Draco Malfoy's grey eyes widened when he saw my face. Of course, it had been so long since the last time he saw me and I dare say I look a little more careworn and world weary since the last time we met. A scar bisects my right eyebrow and ends just below my eye socket. Thanks to a talented medi-witch, I still have the actual eye. My hair, once a jungle of snarls, now hangs about my shoulders in loose waves. I'll never tell that I got it permanently relaxed.

A myriad of scars and burns run along of my arms and torso, but the most prominent would have to be the one of my face. But the part of me that disturbed him the most was my eyes. While we were at school they constantly shone with hope and warmth, no matter what happened they never seemed to loose that glimmer of refreshing naivety. Now, my eyes glint like shards of cold amber, jaded and no longer trusting of the world.

I did not feel like letting Malfoy see my frustration so I let myself drop into the silent place I went to when I killed. The blank mask slid over my face with a smoothness born of years of practice. He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat before speaking hoarsely.

"Merlin, Granger, what happened to you?"

"Life." I said simply, voice flat and monotonous.

Dumbledore appeared beside me. "Draco, what can I help you with?"

"It's Montague."

He had my attention and that uncaring mask slipped away. "_Tristan_ Montague?"

Malfoy looked at me for a moment. "Yes, of course. Why do you care?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's freezing and shaking, but no one can touch him. The moment you get within a foot or so of his body all the heat is sucked out of you. We can't move him and with Madame Pomfrey away, I came directly to you."

Ange, more formally known as Solange, made a noise and I unconsciously smoothed my hand along the soft fur covering the top of her head. Tristan Montague was the necromancer I had come for and judging by Malfoy's description, he was exhibiting the signs of repressing his power. Like all kinds of magic, necromancy had to be exercised otherwise it began to eat away at the user. I was surprised, though, the boy clearly had enough strength to keep his power contained all this time but I knew it would not last.

"Take me to him."

Malfoy looked at me incredulously. "No, you won't be able to help him."

"Malfoy, take me to him right now before he looses control and someone is hurt."

"Do as she says Draco. She can help him."

"All right, follow me."

He turned and left the office, expecting me to go after him. I threw Dumbledore a glance and just as I was stepping onto the revolving staircase with Ange, I heard him speak.

"Do what you must to save him, Hermione. Do not be afraid to expose your power, for in the end it will save you." Again with the cryptic phrases.

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I had never been inside the Slytherin Common Room before and had hoped that my first time would have been on a more auspicious occasion. I looked terribly out of place in my faded jeans and burgundy long sleeved shirt amongst the rich fabric. Not to mention, none of the students looked particularly pleased to have a stranger in their midst. I ignored the quiet gasp and murmurs that followed the appearance of my familiar.

Ange was a snow leopard, one of the few remaining of her species. They had been placed on the endangered species list some time ago but it had not seemed to improve their numbers. Immediately, Ange scampered forward towards the boy lying prone on a couch. She was able to get past the magical barrier he set up and nuzzled against his chest. I moved quickly after her and knelt beside him, a faint tingle was all that altered me that I stepped over a shaky boundary. I settled grasped his hands in mine and exhaled slowly. His eyes opened slowly and I was met by a pair of turquoise pools made hazy by a magically induced sickness.

"Who're you?" He croaked, wetting his lips.

I merely smiled, one that actually filled my entire face, and squeezed his fingers. "The one who will help you tame the darkness."

His brow furrowed. "But how? I am the only one."

I shook my head. "No, I am like you. There is no one else, just us. I can help you but you have to trust me. Can you do that, Tristan?"

In an instant everything he had been taught his whole life came into question. To trust was to invite betrayal, trusting was a weakness and no self respecting Slytherin wanted to be weak. I saw the hesitation on his features and knew that unless I did something, he would close himself off and be beyond help. Throwing caution to the wind, I opened the door that kept the dark within me. A cool, hungry rush of power flooded my veins and exploded from my body.

I was instantly reminded why so many necromancers fully submerged themselves in a world of total darkness. I sucked in a deep breath and through sheer force of will, directed the power to surround Tristan. It must have been a shocking sight for the students sitting about the sofa: me kneeling beside one of their own, tendrils of misty darkness emerging from my very skin to wrap around his body. My eyes drifted closed as I felt the answering call of his power, trapped beneath his flesh, and with the ease of a child stamping on a sand castle, tore apart the walls he had built to cage his necromancy.

A gasp escaped me as a wave of pure, heady power slammed into me and if it had not been for his death grip on my hands I would have tumbled to the floor. My wandering energy searched frantically for my familiar and, utilizing the system created some time ago, began to siphon off this commingled power into her waiting body. Words began to escape my mouth; phrases so often repeated they tasted like a lover's name on the tip of my tongue.

Words of Power, syllables that would keep the dead buried and the dark at bay. A hoarse cry burst from my lips as wards shot up around us. For, the call of those who were no more grew stronger each time I used my necromantic gifts and especially then, totally immersed in the rich darkness, their sweet voices begged me to give them life once more. How easy it would be to simply throw loops of power out and raise all those countless bodies that lay still, waiting for the time when one strong enough would bring them back.

The temptation to fully embrace the dark that I had fought so long against rubbed against me and as I leaned towards it, something drew me back. I let out a shaky breath and opened my eyes slowly, mentally drawing my power back into me and tightly closing that metaphoric door. Tristan was sitting now and looking at my face, a crease of worry wrinkling his brow. For a few moments I merely stared at him, breathing heavily as if I had just stopped sprinting.

"Your eyes…" He murmured, astonishment in his voice. "…they're glowing black. You have no irises, just complete darkness."

I did not need a mirror to know what he was speaking of. Sometimes, if a necromancer drew enough power into herself, some latent energy would cling to the receptive tissues in the eyes. It caused what was happening to me, the eye appearing to be entirely made up of obsidian fire. I withdrew my hands from his and instinctively wrapped a shaking arm around Ange's neck. The solid warmth of her body helped ground me and so I merely nodded.

"Yes, that happens some times." Even to my own ears, my voice sounded uncommonly silky. "I have much to teach you, but are you willing to learn?"

"I am. How did you take my power and merge it with yours?"

"That I cannot explain to you now, but I promise I will someday when there are not so many to overhear." I forgot then that during one of those frantic moments I had thrown up silencing and guarding wards about the three of us. "We both need to lie down for a while. I suggest you go up to your room, exhaustion will consume you soon."

"But I did nothing, you seemed to do all the work."

I merely smiled to him, before rising shakily to my feet. Ange remained beside me and I gratefully leaned against her, using her to steady myself. The prickle of spells caught my attention and with a well placed thought, I brought the wards down. Suddenly too tired to care about the astonished faces around me, I looked up at Malfoy and sighed.

"Malfoy, I need to lie down right now. Please, take me somewhere I can sleep."

He stepped forward and loosely grasped my wrist, unsure or perhaps afraid to touch me. "Of course." With that, he started leading me towards the exit.

As I stumbled after Malfoy, I turned my head to look at Tristan. His intense cerulean gaze met mine and a sense of a bond filled me. Unknowingly I had tied us together when I helped him to lessen the burden of his gift. It gave me a feeling of relief for now I would be able to monitor him from a distance, not constantly hovering about him. Perhaps coming back to Hogwarts hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

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_Thanks to those who reviewed, I appreciate it!_

_Blessed Be_

_Ame_


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